


My True Love Gave To Me

by ohfiitz



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, FitzSimmons Secret Santa, Fluff, they are both giant nerds, which isn't very surprising but whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 09:55:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5739283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohfiitz/pseuds/ohfiitz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On their first Christmas as a couple, Jemma searches for the perfect last-minute gift for Fitz, but finds that they already have everything they need.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My True Love Gave To Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [warriorjemma](https://archiveofourown.org/users/warriorjemma/gifts).



> Written as a pinch-hit gift for leiaorganaas on tumblr for the Fitzsimmons Secret Santa. Her prompt was "couple fitzsimmons and maybe a spin on the twelve days of christmas or another christmas song :)." I feel weird having Fitzsimmons in an established relationship at this point in canon, so I decided to make it an AU-ish thing instead. Happy belated Christmas, Ashleigh! I hope you enjoy this! ♡
> 
> As always, a million thanks go to Cindy (Anthropologicality) for keeping me sane and correcting my prepositions.

“This song makes absolutely no sense.” Daisy says (yells, actually) through the massive meatball currently stuffed in her mouth.

Jemma sighs and takes her reading glasses off for a moment to emphasize the rolling of her eyes. Logically, she knows she should be used to her friend’s random, sometimes intellectual but all the times unsettling rants by now (they did, after all, meet in an anti-establishment chatroom many years ago), but realistically, she would very much prefer to peruse Fitz’s genius new article about the physics of blaster bolts in peace than listen to Daisy’s meatball-filled protest. 

“It’s a Christmas song, Daisy. Plenty of Christmas songs have far stranger lyrics than gifting a partridge in a pear tree.” 

“Among with like, thirty five other species of fowls!” Daisy exclaims with a dramatic flourish of her hands, nearly knocking off the condiment jars in the process. “And the ladies, Jemma, the ladies! This ridiculous joke of a song is promoting human trafficking and I will not stand for it, ma’am, no I will not.” 

“It is a _song,_ Daisy, give it a break. Besides, we should focus on the message of the song, don’t you think?” Jemma says brightly before taking a loud sip of her lemonade. 

“Uh… which is what, exactly? Building a fowlery?” 

“No, silly! Generosity! The holiday season is a season of giving, and antiquated as most Christmas traditions may be, I’ve always believed that it’s rather nice to shower one’s loved ones with all the material manifestations of happiness they deserve.”

Daisy gapes at her in false disbelief and Jemma just shrugs.

“You are _such_ a fucking nerd, Jemma Simmons.” 

“Well. I prefer the term 'genius _,'_ but technically, I do fuck a nerd on the regular, so I suppose–” 

“That was not what I meant and you know it.” Daisy now has a rather painful expression on her face, but Jemma doesn’t seem to hear her and continues to grin even wider at nothing in particular. Seeing her friend brighten up even more at the slightest mention of her boyfriend, Daisy can’t help but break into a small smile as well. Ever since Jemma met Fitz almost a year ago, she’s been nothing but happy and inspired and generally _better._ They tend to do that to each other, and although Daisy likes to tease them about their almost-creepy psychic link, she’s happy that her friend has found someone whose words and entire personality fits perfectly with hers.

“How’re things with your darling nerd, by the way?”

Jemma starts to open her mouth but Daisy cuts her off with a warning finger. “And I’m not asking about the sex.”

Jemma pouts, but then breaks into a grin as she remembers that things are going really _really_ well with Fitz. “Oh Daisy, it’s wonderful. It’s only been like, seven months since we met, but it feels like I’ve known him all my life.”

“Uh. I’m pretty sure you met each other way before that.”

“Oh, no. No. The drunk carolling incident doesn’t count,” Jemma says firmly.

Daisy begins to object, but Jemma shuts her down with a threatening glare. (Threatening enough to make Daisy put her hands up in defeat, at least.)

“And the sex is amazing, by the way. If you’re really that curious,” Jemma whispers rather loudly.

Daisy makes a disgusted face, shaking her head. “I’m really not. But hey, it’s your first Christmas together! Got any plans? Any wild gifts? Any French hens in your purse right now?”

Jemma immediately frowns at that, mumbling a soft _Oh no_ at the sudden realization. She has completely forgotten to get him a gift. Which is downright uncharacteristic and disappointing of her, because Jemma Simmons _excels_ in preparation. (To be fair, she’d completed her Christmas shopping by May, just shortly before she started officially dating Fitz. That barely excuses her oversight, though, and she _has_ to fix it. Now.)

Daisy watches her rapidly changing facial expressions, and when Jemma doesn’t break her silence for a whole minute, she mock-gasps and exclaims, “Oh no, you’re not seriously giving him fowls, are you?”

Jemma bites her lip, contemplating on whether he’d appreciate a turtle dove for a pet. Birds are, after all, some of the most intelligent animals, and Fitz would surely enjoy having something to talk toabout his projects at home, and … _no_. No, that wouldn’t do. She’d just have to brave the throngs of holiday shoppers this one time.

Just this once.

 

—

 

As it turns out, trying to hunt for a half-decent gift on Christmas Eve is an incredibly terrible idea. After seven consecutive salespeople offering her the same tacky green tie (which would be an insult to Fitz’s extensive collection of eccentric but tasteful patterns), Jemma resigns herself to the fact that she would have to rely on her own creative genius to salvage her first Christmas with her best friend in the world and (most likely, maybe, definitely, when she’s brave enough to admit it) love of her life.The only problem being that her creative genius isn’t exactly as outstanding as her scientific prowess.

 _Fantastic._ This is the reason why she does all her holiday shopping during summer.

She allows herself a minute to slump her shoulders and curse the bloody cosmos for letting her commit this massive error, but quickly gets her bearings back and takes a deep, determined breath because _Jemma Simmons does not lose to Christmas_.

All she has to do is think of something that Fitz loves (other than her, of course – not that either of them has said the L-word yet, but she’s pretty certain he does, and is more than certain that she does, too) and something that matters. Something… special in reference to their relationship, perhaps? Maybe a symbol to commemorate how they met – which, admittedly, isn’t even that interesting, considering they met when he interviewed her about the scholarship program she runs for girls in STEM. That is, of course, if you exclude the… _Oh._

Jemma fumbles for her phone and taps her intern’s number, heart racing in anticipation and excitement. “Hey, Lewis? Remember that project you were telling me about? Yes, yes that. Well, I… I need to ask you a favor.”

 

—

 

The past twelve hours prove worth all the stress and anxiety as Jemma watches Fitz’s face light up brighter than Christmas lights while unwrapping his present. 

“One of my interns makes those for fun. Sells them on Etsy and everything,” she explains proudly.

“Jemma, this is...” Fitz trails off as he daintily holds the BB-8 figure up to inspect it. “Is it functional?”

“Oh, no, I’m afraid he’s not quite smart enough for that.” Jemma apologizes, scrunching her nose at him sympathetically. Sometimes he needs reminding that not everyone is as brilliant as the two of them. “But um,” she continues, clearing her throat a couple of times, “there’s uh, there’s a button right there? It… um, it plays a recording when you press it.”

Fitz presses the button and Jemma blushes as the droid lights up and blasts _12 Days of Christmas_. She ducks her head shyly and looks up at him through her glasses, voice cracking as she tries to explain the significance of the song.

“It’s what I sang to you during, uh –”

“– the Drunk Carolling Incident of 2014. Of course I remember. That’s technically how we met.” Fitz grins at her, and she decides right there and then that maybe the drunk carolling incident _should_ count, after all.

It’s been a full minute and Fitz is still grinning at her, and it strikes Jemma just how lucky she is to find a brain who understands, a soul who chooses to stay beside her the whole damn time, a boy who remembers the most embarrassing moment of her life like it’s the greatest marvel he’s ever witnessed. She opens her mouth to speak, but where does one start when they have an entire future to look forward to, and entire universe to explore, and finally, _finally,_ finally someone to share it with? For the first time in her adult life, Jemma Simmons doesn’t know what to say, so she leans up on her toes to kiss him instead, sliding her lips and her tongue against his like they have all the time in the world and she intends to spend it all with him.

They break apart, just slightly, and she opens her eyes to find his ocean-blue ones gazing at her, as inviting as the ebb and flow of waves that keep on kissing the shore. “You taste like home,” she breathes, because he does.

He grins and kisses her temple.“You must miss it, don’t you? Spending Christmas at home.”

“‘Course I do. But I’m… this is home. Now. This is more than enough.” Jemma smiles against his lips and kisses him again slowly, intoxicated with how kissing him feels a whole lot like Christmas morning.“How about you? What’s your Christmas wish?”

Fitz presses a finger to his lips, furrowing his brows as if to think, but immediately shakes his head.

“Hmmm nope. None. I’ve got everything I need, actually. Like my favorite commercial says –” He pauses and smirks at her playfully, leaning back a bit to boop her nose. “You’re my present this year.”

“Oh god.” Jemma groans, burying her face in her hands. “Oh god, Fitz. Please never use that line ever again.”

Fitz chuckles and gently pries her hands from her face, bringing them up to kiss each of her knuckles. “Seriously, Jemma, this is already more than I could ever hope for. Being with you, I mean.”

“Good, good. Your gift better live up to it, then.”

Fitz looks away and she watches his ears turn a rather alarming shade of red. _Maybe his gift isn’t as personalized as hers?_

“Fitz?”

He blows a shaky breath and scratches the back of his head as he speaks, still refusing to look at her.

“I… don’t have one?”

_Oh._

“Oh.” Jemma tries to conceal the disappointment in that one syllable. _That’s okay. It’s perfectly okay, Jemma. Even_ you _almost forgot to buy him a gift. And you’re Jemma Simmons! It’s completely understandable that he_ –

“I, um… well I do, actually, but my gift isn’t really… see, I’m not sure if you’d be okay with it, so. I need to ask you first.”

Fitz makes a run for the bedroom and she thinks for a moment that he’s decided to hide in embarrassment, but suddenly he is standing in front of her again, panting and shoving a small black box a little too forcefully onto her hand. Jemma gapes at the box, frozen. _It_ is _still early for a marriage proposal isn’t it?_ Sure, she _has_ just admitted to herself that she’s in love with him, but honestly, it would be nice to enjoy that bit without having been bound in matrimony and/or whatever legal complications it might entail.

“Fitz? Is this…?” She asks, eyebrows raised in question, and he lets out a little squeak as he takes in her meaning, shaking his head vigorously with eyes blown wide.

“No! No it’s not… just open it. Please.” He pleads, and Jemma flips the box open to reveal a brass key nestled in hastily cut paper strips.

She throws him a questioning look and Fitz bursts into a rapid-fire explanation.

“It’s – well, my mate told me about this nice flat in Cambridge. It has an  _amazing_ view of the sunrise and it’s near both Harvard and MIT, so it’s highly conducive for your program. And. Most importantly: they allow dogs. So that’s…” He snaps his head back down bashfully, and Jemma bites her lip to stop herself from kissing him senseless as he resumes speaking. “I mean only if you want to, that is.”

“Oh, Fitz, you sweet fucker. Yes, I will move in with you.” She launches herself at him but pulls back abruptly. “We don’t have a dog, though.”

“About that… I _may_ have acquired a puppy? For us? Maybe?” He reveals with a playful twinkle in his eyes, one that’s full of joy and hope and promises of early morning cuddles and kitchen experiments and several more Christmases with each other, and this time, she doesn’t refrain from kissing him senseless.

 

—

 

_Three weeks later_

 

Jemma brushes her palms together triumphantly, having successfully arranged both her and Fitz’s books according to subject and date. She takes a sweeping look through their new apartment, spotting her adorable boyfriend leaning against the wall and reading a book. The sight would’ve been perfectly sweet, befitting a cheesy rom-com or one of those hipster instagrams, even,  if not for that fact that he’s holding the book upside down, and there is a very obvious sprig of mistletoe hanging above his head. _Why_ they even have a mistletoe, she cannot begin to comprehend. It’s been three weeks since Christmas.

She walks to him and wraps her arms slowly around his waist, leaning up to press a line of kisses from his jaw to his cheek to the shell of his ear, where she teasingly whispers, “I didn’t know you could read books upside down.”

Fitz’s head snaps to look at her and then at the book, then at her, then finally smacks the book onto his face, the sound of his groans muffled by the thick volume. Jemma giggles at the sight and snatches the book from his hands, revealing a pouting Fitz whose face is now as red as that lightsaber he’s been trying to build.

She kisses his nose and asks, “Any other special talents you’d like to share, Dr. Fitzy?”

Fitz sighs, placing his hands on both sides of her waist and still looking tragically dejected. “Making an arse out of myself, apparently.”

“You do realize that you don’t really need that anymore, right? I can kiss you anytime I please.” She tilts his head up to meet his gaze, and his pout promptly transforms into a wide, expectant grin.

“You should get to that, then.”

Jemma chuckles and rolls her eyes then holds up an imaginary phone to her right ear. “Hello 911? Yes, my boyfriend is an idiot. Kindly whisk him very very far away from here, thank you.”

She expects him to fire back a sarcastic retort, a witty comeback delivered in that delicious Scottish brogue, but instead he just continues to look at her with that already too-familiar look that Daisy loves to call his “heart eyes,” and she blushes despite herself.

“What?”

“You called me your boyfriend,” he observes breathlessly.

“Yes… and?”

“I’m your boyfriend. Me. Leopold Fitz. Your boyfriend. We’re dating.” Fitz is now staring at her with the biggest, most stupid, and, frankly, a bit sexy grin on his face, and she finds herself both amused and endeared by the fact that a reminder of their relationship can still pull that kind of reaction from him, even though they _have_ just moved in together.

“Yes hello police it’s me ag–” He cuts her off with a passionate kiss, the unexpected heat in it making her squeak into his mouth. She parts her lips slightly and his tongue meets hers enthusiastically, and she melts in how familiar and new and _hers_ it feels. She supposes it is, now, in a way. Hers. This house, this life, this nerd with a brilliant mind and a big heart and soft eyes and oh, those talented hands. Hers, hers, all hers. She marks him with her lips, her kisses burning marks onto his: tiny, sacred touches of tongue and teeth that scream in big bold letters: _Reserved for Jemma Simmons._ Hers.

All in all, she decides that it’s not at all bad for a first Christmas as a couple.

“Fitz?” She breathes, eyes still closed and mouth hovering near his.

“Mmm?”

Jemma leaves another soft kiss on his lips, thanking the cosmos for giving her _this_ in the midst of a chaotic holiday season. 

“You’re my present this year, as well.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> The [article on blaster bolts](http://www.wired.com/2012/05/star-wars-blaster-speed) is a real thing! Also, the "you're my present this year" line is a from _that_ infamous [Folgers commercial](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZnqBL6iYjA).


End file.
